A Shadow and a Wolf

Tyrion XVII

"I'm sorry, Tyrion. We still have no answer from King's Landing."

For the fifteenth consecutive day, Tyrion had asked the question to Creylen, and the answer was still the same than the first day. He sighed, just like he did each time he received the negative answer, twice a day.

"I swear that I will warn you as soon as the raven will arrive. I check the rockery regularly and read every scroll as soon as it arrives. You'll be informed the moment the reply will come."

"I would have liked to be informed about the marriage of my sister-in-law when the new arrived, not a week later," Tyrion replied angrily.

Creylen closed his eyes. Tyrion knew he regretted to not have read the infamous message immediately, but right now it couldn't make Tyrion more sympathetic to the maester. Sansa had locked herself in their chamber for the last two weeks and no one managed to convince her to leave them. She scarcely ate, rarely left her bed, seldom talked and spent most of her time looking blankly when she wasn't crying and sobbing. Tyrion felt powerless just like when her brother and her mother were killed.

Things had been so good between Tyrion and his wife ever since they arrived at the Rock, especially during the last month. All of it was gone now, destroyed by the Boltons. Tyrion wanted to chop the heads of all the Boltons only for this, and he wanted to revive his father so he could kill him himself. None of this would have happened if his father hadn't organized the Red Wedding and given the North to Roose Bolton. Just when his relationship with Sansa really flowered, it had to be crushed by his father's doings. Even dead, Tywin Lannister was ruining his life.

"I know how you feel, Tyrion. But all we can do for now is to wait." Creylen's words looked foreign to his ears.

"How could you know how I feel?" Tyrion spoke harshly.

"Because you have the same attitude than when you came back from this journey all over the Westerlands. You acted the same way back then when you visited me."

Creylen's words didn't make him happier. He remembered this journey when he was sixteen. It was on his way back to Casterly Rock that he met Tysha. "The maesters are supposed to advise the lords they serve. Do you have any advice to give me, Creylen?"

The maester he spent so much time with when he was young gave him a sorry look. "I'm not married. But if I was at your place Tyrion, considering what happened the last time, I would stay close to my wife. I would try to be there for her."

Tyrion nodded and left the maester's rooms. Creylen knew Tyrion very well. Tyrion was the one who spent more time than anyone else with the maester when he was a lad. Being a dwarf, what other choice did he have but to study and learn? Tyrion reflected on his advice. He wanted to spend more time with his wife, but like the last time when she lost who she thought to be the last living members of her family, he didn't know what he could do. His family put House Bolton at the head of the North. If Arya Stark was married to Ramsay Bolton, it was in part his own fault. He remembered the little girl from Winterfell. She looked more like a Stark than Sansa with her brown hair and her grey eyes. He saw her eyeing her brothers sparring in the courtyards quite often, and saw Jon Snow ruffling her hair once. The bastard looked much closer to her than Sansa. Even on the tapestry he ordered for Sansa's name day, Tyrion told to have Jon Snow ruffling the wolf girl while she held a sword. Tyrion had thought for a moment sending a raven to Castleblack to warn the Lord Commander about his sister's fate, but in the end he chose not to. It would do no good if Jon Snow rode to Winterfell and broke his vows in a foolish attempt to save his little sister. Sansa would never forgive him if he caused the death of another brother. And Tyrion didn't want Jon Snow to blame him too for Arya Stark's captivity. Sansa wasn't blaming Tyrion, not openly, but he felt he was to blame all the same, and he didn't want the lad to hold him responsible for this. It was a selfish thought, but he couldn't help but feel that way.